The Divided Within

Chapter Twenty-Two

The weight of the warehouse still clung to Alex long after he’d left it. His hands were raw from punching the walls, knuckles split open and aching, but it wasn’t the pain that lingered—it was the quiet. That damn, oppressive quiet. It followed him through the city like a ghost, even with the chaos of traffic and the city’s usual pulse around him.

Diego’s betrayal.

Sophia’s silence.

Too many questions. Not enough answers.

He parked the black Maserati outside his penthouse and sat still behind the wheel, watching the city lights flicker in the distance. The skyline used to calm him—used to remind him of control. Now it looked like a battlefield. He thought of Dominic, of Carlo’s last words before his death, and of Sophia standing in that hallway, half-truths glittering behind her wide eyes.

He closed his eyes, fingers twitching.

Control was slipping.

Back upstairs, the moment he stepped into the penthouse, he knew Sophia had returned. Her scent—a mixture of rosewood and something darker—lingered in the air. The apartment was dimly lit, and he followed the trail of silence into the living room. She was there, curled on the edge of the couch in one of his shirts, legs folded beneath her, staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows.

“You left without a word.” His voice was rougher than he’d intended.

She turned slowly, her expression unreadable. “So did you.”

Alex clenched his jaw. “We’re past games, Sophia.”

“Are we?” Her tone was light, but her posture was tense. “Because it feels like everything is still one.”

He didn’t move. Neither did she.

Finally, he walked to the bar, poured himself a drink, then another for her, though he wasn’t sure she’d take it. He offered it to her anyway. She hesitated, then took it, fingers brushing his. There was a current between them, always had been. But now it was turbulent, sharp.

“Where were you last night?” he asked.

Sophia’s eyes darkened. “I needed space.”

“To meet with someone?” he pushed. “You disappeared. Hours after we discovered Carlo’s files were scrubbed clean. You think I’m not going to notice the timing?”

She stood now, slowly, the shirt falling past her thighs. “Are you accusing me?”

“I’m asking you,” he said. “Because I don’t want to believe it. But I can’t ignore what’s in front of me.”

“Which is what exactly?” Her voice cracked slightly, and that vulnerability hit him like a knife.

“That the woman I—” He cut himself off, the words choking at the edge of his throat. He didn’t trust them, didn’t trust her, not fully. “—that you’re hiding something. Something big. And I need to know what it is, Sophia. Now.”

She didn’t flinch, but inside, her heart stammered.

She knew this would come. Alex wasn’t a man easily distracted. He watched everything. Picked apart silence like it was code. And now she’d run out of ways to evade him.

But not tonight. Not yet. She still needed time.

“You think I’m your enemy,” she said, her voice low. “After everything.”

Alex stepped closer. The tension in his body was coiled so tightly she could feel it radiating off him. “You haven’t told me who you really are.”

“And have you?” she shot back. “Have you told me what you’re truly capable of, Alex? Or what happened in Sicily before you came back, a storm?”

His gaze narrowed. “This isn’t about me.”

“No,” she said, “but it’s about trust. And if you want mine, you better be ready to give it too.”

They stared at each other—two wolves circling, neither willing to blink.

Sophia moved past him, brushing his shoulder as she headed toward the kitchen. She needed to breathe, to think. Alex followed, slowly, but didn’t press further.

“Do you want the truth?” she asked without turning. “It won’t save you. It won’t make anything easier.”

“I don’t want easy,” he said. “I want real.”

She leaned on the counter, back still to him. “Then you’ll need to be patient. Because once I tell you everything… there’s no going back.”

Silence stretched again. And then, softly—almost broken—he said:

“I think it’s already too late for that.”

Her chest tightened.

He didn’t know what response he expected, but the silence that followed dug deeper than any shouted denial could’ve. It was full of truths that hadn’t surfaced yet, full of pasts he hadn’t uncovered.

His phone buzzed. He checked it. A message from Dominic: We found something. Come now. Alone.

Sophia was watching him as he slipped the phone back into his pocket.

“Another secret to chase?” she asked quietly.

He looked at her for a long time. “I want to believe you’re not the enemy, Sophia.”

She walked toward him, slow, graceful, every movement calculated and fluid like water.

“Then stop looking at me like I am,” she whispered.

And for a second, he did. He saw her—the woman who had walked into his club and shattered everything he thought he understood about control. The woman who made him feel alive, even as she tore him apart.

But the truth was creeping closer, and he didn’t know how much longer he could pretend not to see it.

“I’ll be back,” he said, brushing past her. “Don’t leave.”

She didn’t answer.

The door shut with a quiet finality, and Sophia stood frozen, the silence suddenly deafening. She should have told him. Maybe not everything, but something. A sliver of the truth. But she couldn’t.

Not yet.

The clock was ticking. On all of it.

She walked to the bedroom, peeled off his shirt, and stood before the mirror. Her reflection stared back at her—tired, cracked, but still holding. The pendant around her neck caught the light.

A symbol.

A warning.

A legacy.

Her fingers traced the mark at her collarbone, hidden under the pendant. A scar she had earned long before she ever met Alex Morano.

He wasn’t ready for what she carried. And she wasn’t ready to lose him.

But both were inevitable.

The warehouse Dominic had summoned him to was buried deep in the East Docks. Armed guards flanked the entrance, but Alex walked past them without flinching.

Inside, Dominic stood near a table, files laid out, images pinned to a board.

“She’s connected,” he said without turning. “To the Vega Cartel. Deeply.”

Alex’s breath caught. “No.”

Dominic turned, face grim. “Not by blood. But by oath. A hidden alliance.”

Alex stepped closer, scanning the evidence. Surveillance photos. Transcripts. A blurred image of Sophia from three years ago beside a man he knew too well—Mateo Vega.

“This is from before she met me.”

“Does it matter?” Dominic asked. “She’s embedded. Trained. This isn’t some chance meeting. She was planted.”

Alex’s fists curled.

“Tell me what you want to do,” Dominic said carefully.

Alex stared at the board, at the woman he’d brought into his world, into his home. Into his soul.

His voice was low, sharp.

“I want to know if she came to kill me.”